Cooler than #SharkWeek: Real Shark Biologist Mark Royer

Dr Collin Drake doesn’t exist, but there are plenty of real shark biologists in the world. This week, I sat down with my friend Mark Royer, a Ph.D. Student at the University of Hawai’i who has perhaps the coolest job on Earth: he grapples with sharks for a living.

No, really.

Mark is a part of the Shark Research Team from the Hawai’i Institute of Marine Biology, led by two of the most renowned shark biologists in the world: Carl Meyer and Kim Holland. The research group has been studying the sharks of Hawai’i for decades, and as a lab, have produced dozens of publications on shark biology, ecology, and physiology.

I can’t help but feel small in Mark’s presence—at over six feet tall, he towers over me. His loose-fitting t-shirt does nothing to hide the broad-shouldered body that lies beneath. With the musculature of a triathlete, Mark looks like he could take on just about any shark out there, save perhaps a large great white. And I know he has—as a part of his daily work, he has helped handle everything from baby hammerheads to large tiger sharks. But Mark’s intimidating stature, which among friends has earned him the moniker “Captain America”, belies the sweet young man that got to where he is now simply because he really loved the water. Continue reading “Cooler than #SharkWeek: Real Shark Biologist Mark Royer”

A letter to eighteen-year-old me, on her birthday

In a decade, you will find yourself unable to fall asleep, having just turned twenty-eight. You’re still young, and you know that, but the number will seem big. Nearly a third of your life, even if you live as long as your great-grandma did. As you toss and turn, the decade beween eighteen and twenty-eight will roll around in your head. It will grow larger and larger, snowballing into something intangibly huge. You’ll remember how, a decade before that when you were only eight, your lifelong dream and desire was to be sixteen. Sixteen, like Kelly Kapowski in Saved By The Bell, because when you were eight, sixteen seemed like the distant future. At eight you believed that sixteen was when you’d reach some life peak, and you’d be driving around in some cute car with a cute boy wearing cute clothes, and that all of that cute was life at its best. You’ll be a little embarrassed by how silly you must have sounded when you told everyone at Concord Academy about this childish fantasy in your senior chapel that you gave only months away from your 18th birthday. High school was very different from what your younger self envisioned, and at eighteen, you feel like you are wise beyond your years. Oh how you, eighteen-year-old me, thought eight-year-old me was so sweet and naive.

Oh, eighteen-year-old me, you’re still so sweet and naive.

Continue reading “A letter to eighteen-year-old me, on her birthday”

The Sweet Taste of Conservation | Scientist in vivo

Do not try this at home.
This is not the right way to eat lionfish!

According to many biologists, you don’t really know your research inside and out until you’ve tasted what you study (there is, quite literally, a badge of honor for it). I’ve known biologists who have chugged shots of plankton, taken bites from agar plates, and some have even drank water that’s a billion years old to attain the dubious honor. You’d be surprised* just how many times I’ve gotten into conversations about my research and my study organisms only to be interrupted by “that’s great and all, but have you eaten them?” And every time, I had to hang my head in shame and confess that, alas, I had not. Now, I’m thrilled to report that while I was in Beaufort, NC to collect samples, I finally joined the cool biologists club. I ate my study species.

And they are delicious.

Continue reading “The Sweet Taste of Conservation | Scientist in vivo”

Playing in Tide Pools | Scientist in vivo

Here at Science Sushi, I often talk about the great work being done by other scientists, but I rarely turn the focus around and talk about my life as a scientist. This is a shame because I really love my job. So, starting today I’m going to try and take you out in the fiels and into the lab in a series I’ve titled “Scientist in vivo“. I hope that, through this series, you’ll get to learn what it’s like to be a scientist, what I actually do for a living and what makes my job so rewarding. Enjoy!

As a scientist, one of the most important parts of my job is outreach. I consider this blog and other outreach activities as an integral part of my profession. So every year, I wrangle grad students from the Ecology, Evolution and Conservation Biology (EECB) Specialization at the University of Hawaii to help a local elementary school teach their students about the ecology of tide pools. The partnership between EECB and Mililani-Mauka Elementary school is one of those rare gems in outreach where both sides get a tremendous amount out of the relationship. The school gets trained scientific experts that fascinate and amaze the kids with tales of slimy defenses and odd partnerships between crabs and anemones. In turn, the graduate students get to take a day off, get out of the lab, and act like kids playing in tide pools. Sometimes, I think the overworked grad students are more excited to catch critters than the kids!

What can you find in a tide pool on the coast of Oahu? Well, let’s find out…

Hexabranchus saguineus – Spanish Dancer

 

 

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Mollusca

Class: Gastropoda

Family: Hexabranchidae

Genus: Hexabranchus

Species: H. sanguineus

One of my favorite finds was a Spanish Dancer nudibranch – a name that aptly fits the beautiful undulating motion of this colorful animal while it swims which looks like the swirling of a flamenco dancer’s skirt. It’s the largest species of nudibranch in Hawaii, and can get over a foot long!

The term “nudibranch” means “nude/naked gills,” and refers to the frilly, external gills found in these species (they look almost like feathers sticking out of the dancer’s back). The scientific name for this species, Hexabranchus sanguineus, refers specifically to the number of gills (six) and to its blood-like red coloring. Nudibranchs are often brilliantly colored and found in many sizes and shapes, which may serve to warn predators as many species are toxic. Unlike other sea critters, toxic nudibranchs don’t make their own defenses – they steal them from species they eat, like sponges and Portuguese man-of-war.

Dardanus gemmatus – Jeweled Anemone Crab

 

 

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Arthropoda

Class: Malacostraca

Order: Decapoda

Family: Diogenidae

Genus: Dardanus

Species: D. gemmatus

This beautiful little crab is a specialized kind of hermit crab known as an anemone crab. The frilly bits on its shell aren’t just for show – they’re a kind of sea anemone, Calliactis polypus. For the crab, the anemones provide protection. Their painful stinging cells make the crab’s predators think twice about what they snack on. Those pretty pink strands are actually specialized stinging threads called acontia which help protect both the anemone and the crab. In turn, the crab provides the anemones with movement, thus granting them access to better food resources. This kind of you-pat-my-back-I’ll-pat-yours relationship is what is known in as symbiosis or mututalism.

Dolabella auricularia – Wedge or Eared Sea Hare

 

 

 

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Mollusca

Class: Gastropoda

Family: Aplysiidae

Genus: Dolabella

Species: D. auricularia

Ok, so you can’t really see the sea hare in these pictures. But you can see what it produces when it’s scared – a thick batch of bright purple slime! Sea hares – also known as sea slugs – are relatives of snails and other shelled animals, but like slugs on land, they haven’t had a shell for millions of years, thus making them more vulnerable to predators. But the sea hares aren’t defenseless, as you can see from the goo in the pictures. When they feel threatened, they are able to produce large amounts of a thick slime which confuses their would-be predator, allowing the slug to slither away unharmed. The purple color for the slime from the red algae the hares feed on.

Echidna nebulosa – Snowflake Moray

 

 

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Chordata

Class: Actinopterygii

Order: Anguilliformes

Family: Muraenidae

Genus: Echidna

Species: E. nebulosa

Tide pools are important nursery habitats, even for active predators like this snowflake moray. These scary hunters can grow up to 3 feet long and pack one heck of a bite, but this young eel is as vulnurable to predators as other small fish. The tide pools provide him and other young fish a place free of large predators where they can grow large enough to try and make it on their own on the exposed reefs. Snowflake morays don’t often eat fish, though they will if the opportunity arises. Their teeth are flatter than other species of eel, and are more suited to crushing shelled prey items like as shrimps, crabs, and sea urchins.

Octopus cyanea – Day Octopus

 

 

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Mollusca

Class: Cephalopoda

Order: Octopoda

Family: Octopodidae

Genus: Octopus

Species: O. cyanea

By far one of the kid’s favorite finds was this small day octopus. Popular here in Hawaii as a food item (known as tako), day octopus are heavily fished. As daytime hunters, day octupus have incredible camouflage abilities. Let me point out that the two photos above are of the same octopus – those color differences are just a couple of the wide variety of elaborate color patterns and skin textures that the octopus displayed in our short time with it. Octopus have complex brains with a highly developed nervous system capable of changing their skin almost instantly as they move over different substrates. Roger Hanlon, an octopus biologist, once recorded a single day octopus changing patterns 1,000 times over a 7 hour period!

Scorpaenopsis diabolus – Devil Scorpionfish

 

 

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Chordata

Class: Actinopterygii

Order: Scorpaeniformes

Family: Scorpaenidae

Genus: Scorpaenopsis

Species: S. diabolus

Last but not least, however, was by far my favorite catch of the week – this small devil scorpionfish, now named Stumpy. You see, this guy is one of the species that I study. I’m investigating the toxins in the entire order to get a better understanding of how toxins evolved in fish, and this little cutie is one of the many fishes whose spines possess a potent and painful sting. It’s easy to see why this particular species might be mistaken for a rock covered in algae. Because of exceptional camouflage, scorpionfish like this one are often unnoticed by tide pool goers, swimmers and divers until it’s too late and they find out the hard way exactly how strong the toxins they produce are. My goal is to better understand why other member of the order – groupers, for example – aren’t as toxic, even though they possess the ability to produce a similar protein toxin. Do they not express it? Or is the toxin itself altered to be less painful? Given that the toxins have strong effects on our bodies, it’s possible they may provide clues to new drugs or insights into how our cells work.

Stumpy here has come back with me so I can study his toxins as a part of my dissertation research. He currently resides in a tank at my house, where he has been eating like a glutton all week. The speed with which these ambush predators gulp a fish right out of the water never ceases to amaze me. Other cool fact: he glows orange in UV light. Yeah. Orange. How neat is that? I study the coolest animals EVER.

Check out more photos from this year’s tide walks on Facebook!